


just me him and the moon

by gayyegg



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Love, M/M, Tenderness, and i watched all of fleabag and dead poets society again in less than 24 hours and i-, i literally dont know what this is but like im high and yearning, richard siken. jpg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:47:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayyegg/pseuds/gayyegg
Summary: Todd memorized the way his muscles moved under his skin, his lips twitched into a smile.
Relationships: Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	just me him and the moon

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to one direction, end of the day for my rights as a tender dps fan

The first thing Todd noticed about Neil was his smile. “You must be Todd Anderson, I’m Neil Perry,” he had said, grinning wide, and Todd already knew, he was in it deep.

They had roomed together for a solid four days when Todd knew he would do just about anything to see that smile, at least, he would if he wasn’t filled to the brim with anxiety, and terrified of feeling. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he had never gotten the love he put out returned, so he stayed quiet, burning a soft shade of blue in the corner while Neil sat on the other side of the room, writing away, burning large and red.

He was always burning red, so passionate precise. April baby, Todd knew. An older boy at a dance had hidden under the bleachers with him once before, just as shy as Todd, desperate for interaction but too scared to ask. He had whiskey, and he told him all about horoscopes. It had been the first time he had ever felt like he had a friend.

The second thing he noticed, were his freckles. It had started at just his face, the way they dotted his chin, emphasized his cheek bones, but the longer they were together, the more familiar they became, Todd got to see the rest. When Neil would lift his arm and his shirt would tug up, and Todd caught a glimpse of his hips, the soft ones littering his shoulders, dragging his eyes around like he was watching constellations in the night through his window, far away from his home, but now the constellations lay across the room from him, close enough to touch but too far to feel.

His freckles were everywhere, dotting down his spine, soft and intricate, dragging Todd away from his study of the tiles in the bathroom, away from the desperation for his own bed. It didn’t seem to matter how much Todd wanted to go to bed, or study, as soon as Neil was leading the way, Todd was close behind, like a puppy, desperate to watch his back.

His back. His neck. His arms.

His lips.

The snow was white and Neil was red, warm and calming, watching Todd with soft eyes when he thought Todd wasn’t looking, carrying a red notebook with him, scribbling down little thoughts.

Neil had told him he wasn’t half the poet Todd was, but Todd didn’t believe it for a second. Where he was wrapped up in his own head, swimming in the thoughts of the mundane, dreaming of beauty in the emptiness, of a time when all his fears dripped away, Neil acted, trying to make his life the one he wanted, desperate to be front and center in the stage of life.

A poet in action, a poet in his movements. Todd memorized the way his muscles moved under his skin, his lips twitched into a smile, the way his hands felt on his shoulders when Neil had jumped in, stopped him as they walked back to the school, hidden from the rest of the group, lagging behind to whisper to themselves, things they would never say, sentences hiding the truth.

They both knew. But sincerity was hard.

They had heard Charlie shout, up ahead, and the sound of him getting kicked as well, complaining as Cameron scolded him for almost getting them caught. Neil had stopped, and Todd had almost run into him, knocking his shoulder as he stumbled a bit, too caught up watching hi move, memorizing the footsteps he left behind as they were all he could take from him.

Of course it had been Neil. Neil with the smile, Neil with the freckles, the glasses, the shoulders, the voice, the gentleness Todd had never experienced, the openness he had never seen. He knew. He’d known since the start.

He had stumbled and Neil had smiled. Soft. The eyes he normally hid from Todd. The lift in his lips he only saved for his most private thoughts, that Todd had longed for from across the room as Neil had reacted to the scenes in the book he was reading, or in what he was writing, the smile he hid in the pages of his script.

They were face to face, eye to eye, and Todd had never felt more luminous in his life.

He remembered a book he’d read, age 10, tucked away in his room, hiding from the party his parents had hosted, trying to insinuate wealth he knew they didn’t quite have. It was a study of the phases of the moon, poetry written in the guise of science, weaving a tale that Todd had half created on his own on the relationship of the sun and the moon. The brightness and the reflection, the use together, the recognition of the opposite.

Todd’s lips were cold. Neil’s weren’t.

His hands on his shoulders. His lips on his. His smile at him. His chest. His hands.

**Author's Note:**

> i am stoned and soft..... follow me on tumblr @recklesslovee


End file.
